Final Stand: Last Ditch (Mountain Man Book 5)

by Nathan Jones

  And then finally getting back to Camptown, only to learn that Sangue planned to swarm the area with scouts to find them. Having to head right back out to chase down men on horseback and scare them off or blow them up, then make himself scarce in case any surviving enemies decided to try to track his group.

  Just thinking of the last nine days, or was it ten now, made Tom want to slump to the ground right where he was and fall asleep. But he was almost home, almost back to his own bed and his wife's arms, and with any luck a blissful few days straight of unconsciousness uninterrupted by any crisis that demanded his attention.

  He should've realized by now that he should stop hoping for much in the way of luck; he'd used up his entire lifetime's share finding Kristy and getting a chance to have a family with her and Skyler, and then Molly and the baby to come and hopefully more in the future.

  More luck than an old mountain man had a right to, as far as he was concerned. Although that didn't stop him from grousing at trouble when it came.

  Especially when it always seemed to come from the same source, lately.

  It was just past sunrise on the sixth day since leaving to go after the riders, after an early start at first light following a late night to go the final distance to Camptown, before he and the Grand Junction militia members finally made their wearily into view of the settlements springing up in the bowl valley.

  They looked even bigger than when Tom had been there last, more houses going up even in the short time he was gone. A good thing, as long as they could keep Sangue from finding them and didn't have to flee.

  Jonas, Benny, and Buck, the other militia fighter, all split off towards the Grand Junction settlement, leaving him to keep on alone across the valley to where the retreat nestled near a couple small cabins and a corral, looking sadly empty with only the horses and the few remaining milk-producing cows and nanny goats, along with the animals too young to be slaughtered for food.

  A depressing sight, thinking how long it would take to regrow those herds; it had taken over four years to get them as big as they'd been before needing to give them over to feed the Grand Junction refugees.

  Tom was occupied staring at them as he limped the remaining distance to his new home, grim thoughts making him so bone-weary that his waiting bed loomed larger and larger in his mind. Which was why he didn't notice Kristy until she slammed the retreat's door behind her.

  He was more than a little alarmed to see that she looked frantic with worry, which in turn sent a surge of worry through him. Was it the baby? Was something wrong? He rushed to meet her, mostly to keep her from further exerting herself in her condition; she was more than eight months along, and if the problem wasn't the baby, if she panicked and stressed like this it might become that.

  “What's going on?” he asked in the calmest, most soothing voice he could manage under the circumstances, taking her into his arms. She clutched him desperately, trembling and seeming a bit weak-kneed.

  His wife looked up at him with frightened blue eyes. “Tom, have you seen Skyler today? Did he go out to meet you on your return?”

  Tom scratched at his head beneath his hat. “That'd be a trick, since I don't see how he could've known I was back.” He rubbed her back soothingly. “What's going on?”

  “He didn't do his chores this morning.”

  He couldn't help but blink at that. “You're going straight to panic over that? In your condition? After all the balking he's been doing lately?”

  In spite of her state, she paused to give him an exasperated look. “You know he's always been good about caring for the animals, even when he was mad at us. But it's more than that . . . he's been spending almost all his time since you've been gone training Sulky.” She lowered her voice ominously. “Mostly to not shy at gunshots.”

  Son of a . . . Tom had seen the kid at that before he left, but had hoped Skyler was just thinking ahead when it came to what Sulky might need to be trained for in the future. But if his son had been at it nonstop, then pulled a vanishing act and left his chores behind, that spoke to something more ominous.

  “And to top it all off,” she finished grimly, “his stuff is gone! His pack, his guns, his gear, and weeks worth of Sangue rations Brady gave us as thanks for our contributions to the town.” Her eyes darted to the corral. “I was just coming to see if Sulky was missing from the corral when I saw you were back.”

  His frown deepened, and his worry spiked up another notch. Although he couldn't help but think that she should've led off with the kid's gear being gone; and sure enough, the little chestnut mare Skyler had taken as a replacement for Surly was nowhere to be seen.

  “I'm guessing he went off hunting,” he said, trying to work some conviction into his tone. “He knows our food situation is still grim, even with the supplies we took from Emery.”

  Kristy's expression showed she didn't believe that for a second. She was looking more panicked by the moment. “Which was why he took enough food to last him for more than three weeks? To go hunting?” She grabbed him by the head, staring into his eyes fiercely. “We need to find our son, Tom! Find him before he does something stupid!”

  He rubbed her back soothingly some more, although it didn't seem to calm her any. “I will, Kris. I promise I will.” She opened her mouth, but he continued firmly. “You need to calm down, honey. You running around frantically in your condition isn't going to be good for you or the baby.”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “You want me to sit back and relax, put my feet up, when Skyler's run off who knows where?”

  “That's exactly what I want.” He hugged her tighter, kissing the side of her head. “I know it's not easy, but you need to let me handle this while you take care of yourself and the baby that's due any day now.”

  He felt her tense in his arms, on the verge of pulling away, and kept going. “Kris, if Skyler did run off he wouldn't have done it without telling someone, or leaving a message. And if he comes back, it'll be to the retreat. So go back inside, look around to see if he left a note on his pillow. I promise I'll scour every square inch of the bowl valley looking for him, in case he hasn't left yet or had some other plan in mind. And I'll ask around with anyone he might've told his plans to.”

  Tom started to guide his wife back to the retreat, but she stood firm for a second, once again holding his gaze fiercely. “Promise me, if he's gone you'll go right back out to get him.”

  Just the idea of that made him want to pass out where he stood, even if it only earned him the sleep he'd get between here and the ground. But he was nodding before she finished speaking. “You didn't even have to ask, honey. If he's gone, of course I'm going after him.”

  His wife nodded reluctantly. “I'll check his sleeping area again,” she whispered.

  As she made her way back inside Tom turned and strode towards Camptown. There were plenty of people Skyler might talk to about his plans, but of them most were either already out fighting Sangue, like Brandon with the skirmishers or Fiona's brother Logan who was likely out with the volunteers chasing off enemy scouts, or they lived at the retreat and would surely already have told Kristy if they knew anything, or . . .

  Or was a kindhearted young woman whose crush on Skyler was so obvious that only the kid himself seemed unable to see it, who'd become his closest friend since Lisa left. Which was why Tom's first stop was at the Knudsen clan's cabins.

  They were all at breakfast, eating it outdoors on sawn log rounds at simple but well made tables. Communal eating outdoors was a habit just about everyone in the bowl valley followed, saving the cramped cabins they'd managed to build so far for sleeping, usually with every square foot of floor space packed with beds or just bedrolls.

  Tabby, bless her heart, was one of the most guileless people Tom had ever met. The moment she saw him coming she immediately buried her face in her plate of food, but one look at her expression before she hid it made it glaringly obvious that she knew something. And when her wide blue eyes darted up to meet his as he
strode up to where her family was eating, it was obvious she realized the jig was up.

  “I promised I wouldn't tell his mom before he left!” she wailed. “But I didn't say anything about afterwards! I was going to head to the retreat right after I finished eating, I promise!”

  Conversation around the tables stuttered to a halt as her parents, siblings, and various cousins and other relatives all turned to stare at her in complete bewilderment. Then their gazes shifted to Tom, worried and questioning.

  “Where is he?” Tom asked gently.

  The young woman looked away, tears brimming in her eyes. “He went out skirmishing,” she whispered, hugging herself miserably. “I didn't want him to go, I wanted to tell his mom and stop him, but I promised. I couldn't break a promise, especially not to h-” she cut off, face flushing. “I just couldn't.”

  He closed his eyes as dread sank low in his gut. He'd had a feeling that's what Skyler would be doing, but he'd hoped he was wrong. Curse that reckless, headstrong boy. He was going to get himself killed.

  His eyes snapped open at the very thought, and he grit his teeth. Not if he had anything to do with it.

  The Knudsen clan's tables were scarce on menfolk, and even some of the womenfolk, who were out defending the valley. But old Henry Knudsen, Tabby's grandpa and the patriarch of the clan, just didn't have the good health to be out fighting, much as he obviously would've liked to be.

  Even so, he pushed grimly to his feet, although not without some effort. “You need some help with this, Trapper?”

  Tom shook his head grimly. “Should just be a matter of finding out where he's gone and fetching him.” Which might be easier said than done; he'd taught Skyler everything he knew, and the kid had some tricks of his own. Finding him in these mountains was going to be a real challenge.

  He turned back to Tabby. “He say where he was going?” She shook her head, looking even more miserable, and he sighed. “All right. I'd best go tell Kristy what's going on.”

  Leanne, Tabby's mom, gave him a sympathetic look and stood. “I'll bring some food around in a bit, help her out with cleaning and whatnot and make sure she's not exerting herself too hard.”

  The two women were good friends, and it was possible Leanne might even be able to help calm his wife. Which Kristy was certainly going to need once she heard this news; Tom dreaded the prospect of telling her. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. He gave the family a hurried nod in farewell and rushed back the way he'd come.

  As it turned out, Kristy didn't need him to tell her anything. Which in a way was even worse.

  He found her slumped against the side of the retreat, surrounded by a protective group of concerned women: Fiona and Keri and the others Skyler had saved from Sangue who hadn't joined the fighting. From the looks of it, his wife was so sick with worry that she'd thrown up, and now sat curled in a miserable ball around her heavily pregnant belly, sobbing weakly.

  The sight broke Tom's heart. He immediately rushed to her, the other women clearing a path so he could drop to his knees and wrap his arms around her. “Kris,” he said gently. “Oh Kris, honey.”

  She just shook her head and buried her face in his chest.

  Fiona, looking grim, handed him a small scrap of old paper. “We found this between his bed and the wall. Must've fell down there while we were searching.”

  Tom took the paper with shaking hands, reading the few lines of his son's sloppy handwriting scrawled across it with charcoal:

  “Dear Mom and Dad,

  I'm going out skirmishing against Sangue. Don't worry, I'll be fine.

  See you in a few weeks,

  Skyler.”

  It didn't say anything he hadn't already known, but the bald announcement still hit him like a punch in the gut. He opened his mouth to tell Kristy about Tabby's admission, then decided there was no need to further drag the poor girl into this, when she hadn't told him anything Skyler hadn't admitted to in this note.

  Skirmishing, of all things! Sure, the kid had had his sights set on that ever since he'd helped Brandon with the training, but to-

  Tom abruptly chuckled as reason reasserted itself over his panic. Brandon, of course.

  His wife looked up and glared daggers at him. “You better have something amazing to find funny about this,” she said in dire tones.

  He hugged her tighter, ignoring her attempts to shove him away. “Kris. How exactly do you think he's planning on skirmishing? The only thing he could do is go join up with Brandon, and you honestly think our friend would let him stay?”

  “He better not,” Fiona muttered fiercely.

  “Of course he wouldn't,” Tom said confidently. “He'll send Skyler right back home, even if he has to tie him hand and foot.” Kristy kept glaring at him, not seeming convinced. “This is good news. We know where he is, and he's headed to where someone we trust can make sure he gets back to us safely.”

  “Brandon's skirmishers are out in the middle of Sangue patrols, running for their lives,” Kristy said sharply. “Even if Brandon sends him right back, our son is going to be in who knows what kind of danger just getting to him.” Tom opened his mouth to offer more reassurances, but she continued relentlessly. “Besides, you know our son. Who's to say if the skirmishers turn him away, he won't just go off on his own looking for trouble?”

  Tom nodded, cursing silently to himself. He thought the boy had grown past this after everything that had happened. “I'll head out to Brandon and get him. Fingers crossed I'll catch him on the way there and bring him back before he even reaches them.”

  “Good.”

  He kissed his wife and started to hurry off, but her voice called him back. “I know you had no part in Skyler running off, Tom Miller. But you bring him home safe all the same.”

  Oh, he planned to.

  Exhaustion forgotten, or at least shoved into the back of his mind in the face of more important matters, Tom made his way to the corral and snagged Horse, getting to work saddling the stallion; Kristy's horse was one of the strongest mounts they had, and he needed to go fast.

  About the time he had Horse ready to go, Fiona and Keri approached with some fresh baked bread, fresh churned butter, and some of the last batch of cheese, as well as enough Sangue rations to last him a couple weeks if he stretched them.

  “Just in case,” Fiona said solemnly, helping him load his saddlebags.

  Tom nodded his thanks. “Look out for Kristy for me,” he said quietly.

  The young woman's eyes softened, and she patted his shoulder. “Of course we will,” she said, as Keri nodded firmly. “Her and the baby both will be fine. You just focus on bringing Skyler back.” She hesitated. “And give my love to Brandon if you see him. Look out for him if you get the chance.”

  “I will, I promise.” He pulled himself into the saddle, adjusting his rifle on his back.

  But rather than just haring off after Brandon, he decided he should at least check in with the valley's leaders. Which was why he headed back towards Camptown, this time to the storage and command buildings at the center of town.

  They'd come a long way even in the few days Tom had been gone. He supposed everyone had a motivation to better secure the supplies they'd captured from Emery, and an even bigger motivation to properly organize the fighters with hundreds of enemy soldiers out there howling for blood.

  He found Gray Tucker, onetime leader of the Grand Junction militia and now leader of the small group of refugees who'd escaped the destruction of that city, in a cabin that had been repurposed for coordinating the fight. He was meeting with Parley Mitchells, Camptown's leader, Brady Everett, the valley's quartermaster, and half a dozen other leaders of the combined group of volunteers, defenders, and militia fighters. Including Jonas; the lieutenant had apparently shrugged off exhaustion just like Tom had, if for a different reason.

  “Trapper!” Gray called as soon as Tom walked in, looking relieved. “Figured you'd ignore the lure of some well-deserved rest and jump right back into things. And a g
ood thing, too . . . your volunteers were running around like chickens with their heads cut off while you were gone.”

  Mitchells looked displeased at that. Probably since he would've stepped in to lead the volunteers with Tom away. “There've been some snags getting everything organized under your leadership,” he protested mildly, “I wouldn't say it was as bad as that, though.”

  “When we've got an army of bloodies sniffing around these mountains searching for us, and two groups out fending off incursions along with whatever chaos our skirmishers are stirring up, we can't afford to take our time getting sorted out,” Gray shot back. His gaunt features were more testy than the situation warranted; exhaustion and the strain of leadership the sheriff had explicitly told Tom he didn't want.

  Tom could sympathize, but he didn't have time for this at the moment. “Can't say as I'm back,” he said. “I need to get back out there, track down Brandon. I just wanted to ask a favor before I go.”

  Mitchells frowned, irritation shifting from the Grand Junction leader to him. “You quit leading the volunteers at some point without bothering to tell me?”

  He had to remind himself that Camptown's leader was also under a tremendous amount of strain. “For the next several days, assuming you don't decide to do me a favor and fire me for good. My son's run off to go skirmishing, I need to find him.”

  “He's run off again?” Mitchells demanded. He swore and slammed his fist down on the hand-drawn map of the mountains the little group was gathered around. “You can't run off chasing that rebellious little snot every other day when we've got certain doom hanging over this valley. Over the rest of your family.”

  “Now hold on, Skyler's not a rebellious kid,” Brady said quietly. At their incredulous looks he shrugged. “Not by nature, at least. Just think about it, though. Remember what it was like to be that age, take all the emotions you feel right now and dial them up by a thousand percent to what a teenager feels.”